


The Sun-dering

by caliowl



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gravity Falls Is Weird, Gravity Falls Shenanigans, M/M, Romance, Sibling Incest, Stanley Talks to Himself, Supernatural Elements, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29371263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caliowl/pseuds/caliowl
Summary: After spending outdoors sunning himself, Stan discovers he’s lost his shadow! Apparently, he’s the victim of a Gravity Falls phenomenon called a “Sun-dering” and needs to make a tough decision. But does he know what to choose when it comes to matters of the heart?
Relationships: Stanford Pines/Stanley Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	The Sun-dering

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to my beta, yehvaru, who was kind enough to look this fic over and offer kind suggestions! You're the greatest! <3

“Take  _ that _ , Mabel! Hah! …No wait! Don’t! Don’t, don’t, do  _ not- _ !”

“DEATH FROM ABOVE!”

Earsplitting screams ensue, and Stan sighs in contentment.

It’s a beautiful day.

The sun blazes high in the sky, right where he wants it, and his great-niece and -nephew are playfully attempting to drown each other nearby. Stan lifts up the sunglasses from his eyes to get a good look at the two, and grins as Mabel pops a water balloon right in Dipper’s face.

“Great shot, pumpkin!” He praises her, raising his empty can of Pitt Cola in a salute to her aquatic prowess.

“Ugh, Grunkle Stan!” Dipper whines, narrowly dodging another water projectile. “You’re  _ always _ on her side!”

“’Course not, Dipper!” Stan argues. “I’m just on the side of the winner, ‘s all!” He flips his shades back down over closed eyes and leans his head back on folded arms. “Nothin’ personal.”

Suddenly, a form blots out the light and Stan opens his eyes to see his great-nephew standing over him with the creepiest expression on his face.

“What the-?”

“Join me, Grunkle Stan.” Dipper says, with a manic grin and a water balloon grasped tightly in his right hand.

Stanley has never seen anything more menacing.

“Don’t you  _ dare- _ !”

The resulting splash is almost deafening in the sudden silence of the forest. Even the animals and magical creatures stop in place, stunned by Dipper’s audacity.

Stan slowly sits up into a hunched position, expression unreadable in his downturned face.

“Heh…uh…Grunk-Grunkle Stan?” Dipper squeaks, his arms retracting into his chest in a powerful combination of anxiety and fear. “Are y-you…are you al-? OOF!”

He’s suddenly cut off by a strong force that sweeps him off his feet and throws him over a well-muscled and hairy shoulder.

“Mabel, sweetie! Ready the bucket! We’re about to do some nerd dunking!”

“What?! Nooo!” Dipper wails, struggling in his Grunkle’s hold in vain. Mabel crows in delight and begins emptying the bucket of excess balloons to get to the water at the bottom. “Will nobody stand up for the little guy?!”

Abruptly, Stan gets blindsided by a forceful stream of water. He cries out in annoyance and wipes his eyes with his unoccupied arm just in time to see Mabel take a stream of water to the chest. “I’VE BEEN HIT!”

A low chuckle comes from the Shack’s rear entrance causing Stan’s heart to lift and making it difficult to retain his scowl. “Hey! We talked about this! No strange and/or new water fighting tech allowed, Sixer.”

Stan looks over in time to see his twin rest a large water gun against his shoulder in a lazy gesture. He smirks. “And here I was thinking the same thing about two against one.”

“Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper cries, finally wriggling out of Stan’s grasp to run over to his other Grunkle. “You’re going to join in?”

Ford tosses his great nephew another water gun with a wink. “Us nerds need to stick together, right?”

The boy practically  _ glows _ . Stan rolls his eyes.

“So, it’s brain against brawn, eh?” He asks with a smirk of his own, shifting his head from side to side and cracking his neck twice in the process. “I already know how this story ends.”

“Your overconfidence is your weakness,” Ford warns, while Dipper shakes his fists and screams something about a “reference”.

“You may have your fancy-schmancy water guns,” Stan retorts. “But I have my great-niece. PUMPKIN! NOW!”

The two look up just in time to get a face full of water as Mabel swings down from the roof with a war cry and the Shack’s garden hose.

“So that’s the way you’re going to play it?” Ford cries. “Dipper, on my mark! Ready! Aim! FIRE!”

The ensuing shrieks and screams echo through the Gravity Falls forest for around an hour. Water balloons are thrown, water guns stolen and re-taken, and a tug-of-war over the garden hose ends rather devastatingly for Dipper in particular.

Turns out, there really  _ was _ only one way for the story to end.

“Alright, alright! We concede! We concede!” Ford cries out, as Stan maniacally cackles while he sprays his defenseless brother’s ass with the garden hose.

“What’s that?” Stan cries out as he sticks the hose down his brother’s sweater, delighting in his outraged shriek. “I don’t speak ‘nerd’!”

“HAVE MERCY, STANLEY!” Ford yells as his brother finally allows him to rip the hose from his turtleneck.

Stanley laughs loudly, arms wrapped around his torso. Ford crosses his arms over his chest and frowns in response, tapping a bare foot impatiently against soggy ground. “Are we done here?”

“Yeah, yeah, Sixer, we’re done whoopin’ yer ass.” Stan wheezes, wiping a gleeful tear from his eye, and snorting a laugh at his twin’s resulting sneer.

Ford sighs and runs a hand through his hair, unintentionally slicking it back in a way that catches Stan’s eye. His eyes follow the hand as it slides down to the back of Ford’s wet neck. The hand then proceeds across his chest to bunch in Ford's sweater, pulling the sodden material briefly away from his chest. When the sweater returns to its resting place it covers peaked nipples, stiff from the cold water.

“Stanley?”

“Yeah?” He rips his gaze away from his twin’s chest, swallowing to moisten his oddly dry throat.

“I said, ‘do you want a towel?’ I’m planning to head inside to get a few for ourselves and the kids.”

Stan coughs. “Nah, I think I’ll go back to sunning myself out here. I’ll be able to get dry enough that way.”

“Alright. I’ll bring you another Pitt Cola instead.” Ford replies, turning away and heading for the Shack’s rear entrance before Stan can tell him it’s not necessary.

“Oh, oh, oh! Can you get me my favorite towel, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asks, tearing herself away from a small water scuffle with Dipper. “It’s the pink one with flowers!”

Ford sends her an indulgent smile. “Of course, Mabel. Dipper, would you like your Barry Trotter towel?”

Dipper looks down bashfully, but assents with a “please, Grunkle Ford.”

“We’ll go in with you!” Mabel beams.

“That’s alright, Mabel. Wait here with your Grunkle Stan. I don’t want to track too much water through the Shack.”

He disappears into the building, and Mabel turns to address her remaining Grunkle. “Hey Grunkle Stan, was there something off about Grunkle Ford?”

Stan blinks in surprise. “What? Why do you say that sweetie? Because he joined in the water fight?” He grins. “Because I know Ford’s a stick in the mud most of the time, but-”

“No, it’s not that.” Mabel interrupts. “You were looking at him for a long time. Did he look funny to you or something?”

Stan’s brain short-circuits. “I-you-I wasn’t looking at him for a long time! I was looking at him for a very normal amount of time!”

“But-”

“Who wants ice cream?!” Stan shouts, catching the attention of Ford who had just returned with three towels draped over an arm and a Pitt Cola in his hand.

“We’re doing ice cream now?” He asks, while the kids cheer. “I thought you were going to sun yourself?”

Stan takes the Pitt Cola from his brother while the kids take the opportunity to grab their towels. “I am.  _ You’re _ going to take the kids out for ice cream so I can get my sun in without worrying about two teenagers with access to the garden hose.”

Mabel and Dipper giggle loudly while Ford sighs with good humor. “I suppose we can cut you a bit of a break for now. Kids, you want to get dry and changed so we can go into town?”

“Yeah!”

There’s a breeze as the young pair of twins dash quickly into the Shack, leaving the older pair of twins outside on their own.

“Thanks for going along with this, Sixer,” Stan tells Ford. “I know it was last minute-”

“No kidding!” Ford laughs. “I don’t know what possessed you! But I certainly don’t mind extra one-on-one time with my great-niece and -nephew.” He smiles, unrestrained, at Stanley. “I suppose I should be thanking you for the opportunity!”

“I-! N-no problem, Sixer,” Stan stutters, stunned by the brilliance of his brother’s smile. They stand in silence together for a while, just taking in the sights and sounds of the surrounding woods.

“Well,” Ford finally says. “I’d better get in and get changed quickly before Mabel and Dipper start to miss me.”

“Right, right,” Stan mutters. “Go ahead. I’ll just be over there in the chair.” He tells Ford, pointing to the lawn recliner.

A broad hand comes down on his shoulder, the touch burning like a brand. “Sure thing, Stanley. I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Stan says, being careful to look elsewhere.

The hand removes itself and his shoulder feels cold as he hears the door close behind Ford.

Stan sighs and makes his way over to the chair, sitting down and staring at the Pitt Cola can in his hand. The can that Ford had brought for him, on a whim.

Ford.

Stan releases another sigh, this one longer and forlorn, as he reclines on the lawn chair and tips his head towards the sun, closing his eyes.

What was he to do about this situation with Ford?

Or maybe it was more accurate to say what should he do about  _ his _ situation with Ford? Either way, Stan definitely needs to do something about those damned butterflies that act up every time Ford so much as looks at him.

He knows what he  _ wants _ to do but  _ wanting  _ to do something is one thing - actually  _ acting _ on it is something altogether entirely different.

Especially considering that what he wants to do is...incestual.

Because what he wants to do is dip Ford and plant a kiss on those thin, tempting lips. What he wants to do is hold him close, as a lover would; tangling their legs, wrapping thick arms around that trim waist (and cop a feel of that sweet ass while he was at it). Bring their foreheads together to breathe in the same air until he wasn’t sure where Ford ended, and he began. What he wants to do is continue to grow older together, all the while sailing the world and enjoying the company of their family while they were at it.

What he wants to do is confess his love for Ford.

But, of course, he can't do that! Confessing such emotions to his own  _ twin _ is something that he really,  _ really _ shouldn’t do. And yeah, he’s done plenty of things in the past that he  _ really _ shouldn’t have done, but this is different. This is  _ Ford _ he's talking about! He doesn't want Ford to have to deal with the resulting fallout of such taboo desires, especially as they extend to other people’s scorn or derision.

Ford is amazing! He's intelligent, kind, fun, and eccentric. Yeah, he's a bit of an asshole and self-absorbed, but no one's perfect. Stan isn’t much of a prize himself with his sticky fingers and loose tongue, but Ford sticks by him despite all that, and is as accepting of his flaws as much as his good qualities.

Ford is love. Ford is  _ home _ .

He's also  _ family _ . Brother.  _ Twin _ . And those facts aren't going to change.

Stan sighs despondently, settling deeper into the chair at the thought. It was such a blow to his hopes and dreams.

Be that as it may, though, he still continues to hope and dream, nonetheless. Maybe he's an old fool, but he just can’t let his feelings go. It had taken him so long to accept them that when he finally did, those emotions felt like something precious that had been hard-won. A little brightness in his life that waxed and waned with Ford’s presence, as if he were the moon itself.

…Ok, that last thought was  _ really _ cheesy, Stan acknowledges with a grimace. But it didn’t make the sentiment any less true.

Stan shifts in the chair, getting more comfortable. He had some time to himself until Ford and the kids got back. A little harmless daydreaming would improve his mood and take him out of the slump he’d found himself.

He mentally goes through all the scenarios in his head that he’d amassed since he accepted his feelings towards Ford, wanting something comforting and warm. He lands on a moment that they’d experienced fairly recently on the Stan O’ War II, when they’d been eating lunch.

Ford had been laughing as he shared a ridiculous story from his time in the portal, grinning with sparkling eyes and a small, distracting dab of mustard on the corner of his mouth from his sandwich. In reality, Stan had tapped the corner of his own mouth a couple of times to signal to Ford to clean up the bit of condiment and his twin had done so with a napkin.

In his fantasy, Stan is bold enough to reach across their little booth to cup Fantasy Ford’s cheek in his hand, the skin warm and slightly wrinkly under his touch. He watches Fantasy Ford’s eyes widen in surprise at his gesture, but otherwise doesn’t react. Stan swipes the pad of his thumb over the little yellow blob, gathering up the offending mustard before popping his thumb in his mouth.

Fantasy Ford is struck by Stan’s daring, and stutters out a breathless, “S-Stanley?”

Stan grins at him and stands up, walks over to Fantasy Ford’s side of the table, and slides in next to his twin with an arm finding its way along the back of the seat, effectively boxing his brother in. Fantasy Ford swallows nervously, or maybe in the beginnings of excitement, and Stan watches as his Adam's apple bobs with the action.

Fantasy Ford plays coy. “What are you doing, Stanley? You haven’t finished your sandwich.”

“You were too far away,” Stan says, and Fantasy Ford finds this line charming instead of cheesy, ducking his face down to hide his blush. Stan might not be able to see the flush on his cheeks, but the tips of Ford’s ears betray him with their reddened state. It’s adorable.

“Hey,” Stan says, putting his thumb in the divot of Fantasy Ford’s chin to tip his face up gently (Stan always thought the little dent would be a perfect place for his thumb). “Don’t do that. I wanna see your handsome face.”

Fantasy Ford’s face reddens further, his mouth dropping open slightly in surprise. “My-? Y-You think I’m handsome?”

“I think you’re gorgeous.” Stan tells him. “I think you’re the most brilliant and beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” (In his fantasies, Stan’s not afraid to tell Ford  _ exactly _ what he thinks of him.)

“You don’t really mean that, surely,” Fantasy Ford says bashfully, lowering his gaze.

“It’s true! I love everything about you,” Stan tells him earnestly. “I love your nose,” he tells him, placing a kiss on the tip of Fantasy Ford’s nose, making him laugh in surprise and delight. “I love your beautiful brown eyes,” he says, placing a kiss on the corner of each one. “I love your ‘thinking wrinkles’,” he teases. He kisses Fantasy Ford’s forehead in several places where the lines are ever-present and Stan is captivated by Fantasy Ford’s resulting giggles. “And I love these lips…” He leans in and Fantasy Ford’s eyes flutter shut as his face tips up, waiting sweetly for his kiss.

Stan doesn’t disappoint him. He presses a chaste kiss on Fantasy Ford’s mouth, feeling his soft sigh as he presses back gently. Stan brings up the hand that had been resting on the back of the seat to cup the back of Fantasy Ford’s head, tenderly holding him in place as Stan tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

“Stanley…” Fantasy Ford whispers, before pressing another kiss to his mouth.

“I love you, Ford,” Stanley tells the fantasy. “I love you so much it hurts.”

“Oh, Stanley,” Fantasy Ford whispers, as he brings up his hands to wrap around Stan’s neck, pulling him in closer until their foreheads touch. “I love you, too. It doesn’t have to hurt.”

Stan feels real tears pricking at the corners of his closed eyes, the heat of them causing an itchy feeling behind his lids. If only it could be true. If only it could be that easy.

If only he could just  _ tell him _ .

But-

Suddenly he sees a bright flash of white behind his eyes. The sudden vision shocks him into opening them and getting an eyeful of blindingly bright sunshine. Stan cries out in surprise and claps his hands over his eyes in a belated attempt at protecting them from the harsh rays.

He tries in vain to blink away the spots and after images for a few seconds, his mind on the bright, white light that appeared before he opened his eyes.

‘ _ What on Earth…?’ _

“Grunkle Stan! We’re back!” Mabel singsongs, and he can hear her skipping over to the chair. “And guess what? We brought you some ice cream! Cookies and cream, just like you like!”

His eyes slowly flutter open to take in the cold treat under his nose. He stares at it, not fully comprehending, his mind still on that white light that had appeared behind his lids…

“…Grunkle Stan? What’s the matter?” Mabel asks, concerned. “Don’t you want it?”

He mentally shakes his head to clear his thoughts of all things related to mysterious lights and takes a proper look at his great-niece, who’s looking at him with worry.

“Thanks, sweet pea. I would love some! I’m surprised you remembered one of my favorite flavors,” he tells her, and watches as she perks up at the praise.

“I never forget a favorite ice cream flavor!” She tells him jovially, playfully wagging a finger. “That’s an important piece of information! It tells a lot about a person.”

“Does it really?” Stan asks in amusement. “What does it say about me?”

“That you secretly love watching those boring old black and white movies, but you’ll never admit it!” She teases, sticking her tongue out at him and dancing away from his playful swipe at her.

“That’s not fair! You based that on insider info!”

Mabel opens her mouth to say something else when she suddenly snaps it shut. “…Grunkle Stan…?”

“Yeah, honey?” Stan asks in confusion and a little concern.

His worry grows when she takes a few steps away from him. “You’re-you’re not my Grunkle, are you?”

“What?” Alarms are blaring in his mind, and his confusion gives way to panic. “Mabel, sweetie, it’s me! Your Grunkle Stan! Why would you say that?”

“You can’t be my Grunkle! You have no shadow!”

Stan blinks and looks down at himself. Sure enough, there is no darkness below his feet. He spins around to look behind himself and while he sees the shadows of other things, like the chair and surrounding trees, his own is nowhere to be found.

His mouth falls open to say something, but no sound comes out. What do you say when your own  _ shadow  _ goes missing?

The sound of a door slamming shut brings him out of his shock, and he hears Mabel cry out for Dipper. Stan whirls around and heads for the Shack. He gets to the door and tries the handle only to discover it’s locked.

“Mabel? Mabel, open the door, please! I promise!  _ I’m _ your Grunkle!”

“Y-you stay away from here, vampire!” Dipper’s voice stutters, slightly muffled through the wood.

“Vampire?! Kid, it’s  _ sunny _ outside! I would’ve ended up vaporized!” Stan slaps a hand over his forehead in frustration. “Dipper, please, I swear it’s me! Go ahead, ask me anything only  _ I _ would know!”

“Ok, buster!” Mabel’s voice announces. “What’s Grunkle Stan’s favorite pastime?”

“Easy. Sailing with Ford. Next.” Stan prompts, hoping that further questions will reveal he is who he says he is.

“What about Grunkle Stan’s favorite food?”

“Again, easy. My Ma’s matzah ball soup, but more recently I’ve been really into a nice, classic pasta with meatballs.”

“Ok, time for a hard one,” comes Mabel’s suddenly soft voice from behind the door. “What did Grunkle Stan say to me the day everything went wrong when I was 12? When I was worrying about getting older and going to high school, and Grenda and Candy couldn’t come to our birthday party, and then I found out Dipper was planning to leave me behind to stay with Grunkle Ford?”

“Mabel…” Dipper says, equally soft.

“It’s ok, Dipper. It all worked out in the end, right?” Mabel says, still somewhat forlorn. “But more importantly, I wanna know what Grunkle Stan told me when I was feeling down. What did  _ he _ say?”

Stan sighs heavily and lays a hand on the door in front of him, wishing he could be there to see her little face and hold her in his arms until the pain went away. “I said, ‘No one likes gettin’ older. But just because you’re growing doesn’t mean you have to  _ grow up _ .’”

Suddenly the door gives way and Stan almost falls inside the Shack. Mabel is looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “Grunkle Stan!”

“Mabel, sweetie!” He reaches forward and gives her a big, bear hug.

“G-Grunkle Stan?!”

Stan’s head snaps up at Dipper’s high-pitched call. His eyes widen in shock at what he sees.

Dipper’s being grabbed by some sort of dark, ghost-like person. It has its large, burly arms wrapped around him and lifts him bodily off the ground.

“Hey! Get away from him!” Stan yells, pulling Mabel to safety behind him while he puts up his fists menacingly.

The figure lets Dipper go gently, setting him down on the floor, before putting up fists of its own. It remains silent, but its body language suggests that it doesn’t take kindly to being threatened.

Dipper runs to Stan, going around him to reach Mabel. Stan can hear her asking him if he’s ok, but he’s more focused on this…creature. Whatever it is, it knows how to box. Its fighting stance is impeccable.

He throws a punch, eyes widening in surprise when his fist goes right through its face (or where its face  _ should be _ ). He stumbles forward, only to feel a strong blow to his back which sends him to the floor.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel and Dipper yell fearfully in tandem.

Stan growls and gets up quickly, discovering that the creature has kneeled before the children. “Take this!” He yells, going to grab it around its waist only to feel air between his arms. “What the-?”

“…Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asks with uncertainty, reaching out towards the shadow figure that remains knelt on the floor, and it’s only now that Stan realizes it has its hands out towards the children.

“Mabel! Don’t touch it!” Stan yells, at the same time Dipper grabs her hand in his own and warns, “Mabel! Be careful!”

“What in the multiverse is going  _ on _ down here?!”

Stan turns to take in Ford, who’d clearly just taken a shower and thrown on some clothes, wielding one of his weird sci-fi guns. He must have heard the commotion and come running.

He watches as his brother takes in the scene with sharp eyes, which are darting around the room from one figure to another. No one makes a move, and the room is silent as Ford studies the situation.

Suddenly, Stan sees his brother’s eyes narrow and his hand tighten around the gun he’s holding. He looks to his side and realizes that the figure  _ has _ moved, coming to stand next to him with its arms out in a placating gesture. Slowly, it moves closer towards Ford, edging along hesitantly but with purpose.

“Ford, what’re you doing?! Shoot it already!” Stan cries.

Ford looks to him and then back to the creature – and then does a double take. He slowly lowers the gun, his eyes widening and mouth dropping open in surprise. “What…?”

“Ford!” Stan shouts, getting more and more agitated the closer the creature gets to his twin.

His brother seems to be studying the creature, his eyes roving up and down its form while his head slowly tilts to the side. “…It’s ok, Stanley,” he finally says, and reaches out towards the figure.

His hand reaches for the creature’s shoulder…and  _ rests _ there.

“What the…?”

“It’s not dangerous, Stanley.” Ford finally says, and then looks over at him. “It’s  _ you _ .”

* * *

“What the h-… _ heck _ happened to me?” Stan asks, looking across the kitchen table at his own shadow, which had been guided to its seat by Mabel. She and Dipper had taken the remaining seats at the table while Ford stood casually behind Stan’s shadow’s shoulder. “What could have possibly caused  _ this _ ?”

“When I was conducting my research into Gravity Falls, I came across another person who had discovered Bill. I believe I mentioned Modoc the Shaman in some of my journal entries – he was the one who had worked with Bill in the past and wrote the warning in the cave that I had come across.

“Anyway, it turns out Bill wasn’t the only warning he left behind. According to Modoc, there is a situation that can occur if all the conditions are met.

“It’s called a ‘Sun-dering’.”

Stan blinks at him. “Why did you say it all weird with the pause?”

“Because Modoc believed that the sun was the entity that caused the splitting of a mortal from its shadow.” Ford replies, looking down at where Mabel is gently patting Stan’s shadow on the wrist. “He claimed that the unfortunate person to undergo a ‘sun-dering’ would be blinded by an angry sun, and while they were distracted the sun would steal their shadow from them.”

Stanley’s mouth falls open in recognition. “Hey. Yeah! That makes sense!” He smacks a fist into the palm of his other hand in excitement. “When I was outside sunning myself earlier, I saw this bright, white light flash in front of my eyelids! I thought I was just hallucinating it, but afterwards when Mabel came to give me my ice cream, she noticed my shadow was gone!” He leans forward in his seat in interest. “That’s what I have! So, if this Moduck guy-”

“Mo _ doc _ , Stanley.”

“Yeah, yeah, Modoc. If he went through the same thing then he must’ve found a way to undo it, right? Get his shadow back to where it belonged?”

A relieved smile spreads across Ford’s face. “Luckily for us, he did! He said that the afflicted one must meditate on the thought that had caused the separation in the first place – what you were thinking while you were sunning yourself - before the flash appeared. You meditate on the thought until you and your shadow are of the same mind, and then you must walk the same path to reach a shared goal. Only then will your shadow become one with you again.

“Basically,” he begins to translate for Stan, seeing his confusion, “there was something weighing heavily on your mind that you were very indecisive about. But somewhere in you, there was a strong desire to reach a certain outcome that you denied. If you accept this option and move ahead with it, your shadow should go back to normal.”

“Something I was indecisive about…?”

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan. It sounds like you were thinking really hard about what to do about something,” Dipper says.

“Like when I have to decide between strawberry ice cream and bubblegum!” Mabel cuts in, grinning widely. “Now  _ that’s _ a hard decision to make!”

“But it’s not just that,” Stan points out. He glances at Ford. “What was that about a strong desire?”

“Like, you were thinking ‘I’m not sure what to do about this’ but secretly, you preferred one option over the other, right Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asks, turning expectantly towards Ford.

Ford smiles indulgently and ruffles Dipper’s hair, to his great-nephew’s delight. “Got it in one, Dipper!”

“So, I’m trying to decide between strawberry and bubblegum ice cream, but I already know I really want strawberry all along?” Mabel asks.

“Exactly! You already know you want strawberry, but for some reason are still debating between strawberry and bubblegum. Perhaps a friend you were with said they were allergic to strawberry, and you’re considering getting bubble gum to avoid offending them.”

Mabel gasps loudly in shock. “ _ Allergic to strawberry ice cream?! _ Grunkle Ford, don’t even  _ joke _ about that!”

Ford and Dipper laugh at her dramatics, but Stanley’s gone stock still in realization. What he had been thinking about before the flash was…

_ If only he could just  _ tell _ him. _

_ But- _

…No. No, no, no, no,  _ no _ .

Suddenly, he feels a hand on top of one of his fists. (When had he curled his hands into fists?) He looks up to discover his shadow has leaned forward to…comfort him? Is that possible?

“Why-why can I feel it now?” He asks in shock. “Before…before, my hands went right through it!”

“Maybe it can choose to be solid or not?” Dipper asks.

“If I could choose, I know  _ I _ wouldn’t want to be able to be hit by Grunkle Stan! He’s  _ strong _ !” Mabel says cheerfully, patting Stan’s shadow on the forearm. “Aren’t you?”, she asks it.

“Sweetie don’t talk to my shadow like it’s me. That’s weird.” Stan tells her.

“Grunkle Stan, this whole  _ thing _ is weird!” Dipper points out. “What were you even thinking about for this to happen?”

No. No way in  _ hell _ is he going to admit to anything while the kids are around.

“Nunyuh.”

“N-nunyuh? What’s-”

“None o’ yo’  _ business _ !” Stan crows, holding up a hand for a high five that Mabel enthusiastically accepts. “Hah!” He gets up from the table while Mabel slaps his shadow’s waiting hand with equal enthusiasm. “I’ll just go to my room and get this sorted. Don’t wait up!”

“Wait! Grunkle Stan!”

“Relax, Dipper. Grunkle Stan’s got this! C’mon, let’s do something else while he’s up there boringly meditating or whatever.” He hears Mabel say, as he gets to the stairs and starts his way up.

“Stanley.”

Stan does a double take. “Sixer! When’d you get here? Don’t make me put a bell on you!”

Ford ignores his quip. “I understand if there’s something you don’t want the kids knowing, but please, if it’s dire, could you…could you let me know?” He bites his lower lip in concern. “I just-I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

Stan relaxes a bit from his tense stance. He can understand that. He’d probably be the same way if he found out Ford was keeping something important from him. “I promise, it’s nothing as bad as you’re thinking. I’m healthy as a horse! Just…some personal problems.” He admits, looking down and away.

“Oh!” He hears Ford exclaim. “Well…if you ever need someone to talk to, about anything, anything at all, you know my door’s always open.”

Stan looks back to Ford’s hopeful face. He looks cute, all earnest like that. “…Thanks Ford. I appreciate that.”

Ford suddenly startles, causing Stan to jump in surprise. “What-?”

“Oh,” Ford breathes, looking at something next to him. “You followed us. Of course. You must want to stay around Stanley.” One of his hands comes up and covers something on his shoulder. A shadowed hand. “Thank you,” he tells Stanley’s shadow sincerely, patting its hand a few times before he backs away from its touch.

“Good luck with the meditation,” Ford turns to Stan once more. “Let me know if I can help.”

“…Will do. Thanks, Sixer.”

Ford nods and walks away towards the TV room. Stan stares after him for a while, his eyes perhaps straying a  _ bit _ under the beltline in the process. No one would know it but him, anyway.

He has a sudden realization. No one but  _ him _ .

“Hey!” Stan calls down to his shadow on the ground floor, who he notices is  _ also _ watching Ford leave. At his call, however, it swings its head around to regard him.

“C’mon. With me,” Stan tells it with a gesture to follow him. He heads up the rest of the stairs and goes into his room and waits for the shadow to step inside before closing the door.

He turns to regard his shadow. It seems to be regarding him in equal measure. The two continue to size each other up for a while, until Stan breaks the silence.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the special attention you were giving Ford,” he tells it, jabbing a finger in its direction. “I get why you’re here now. I do. But you gotta realize that we can’t do what you want.”

His shadow simply flaps a dismissive hand in his direction and turns away from him.

“Hey! Screw you!” Stan yells. “You  _ know _ why we can’t. You’re  _ me _ , for crying out loud!” He lowers his voice to a harsh whisper. “He’s our  _ twin _ ! Our flesh and blood! We just-we just can’t! It’s…it’s  _ wrong _ .”

Stan watches as his shadow brings its hands up to grasp at its “hair” in frustration.

“So now that we’ve got that out of the way-”

He’s suddenly interrupted as his shadow steps into his space. “Wha-?” It grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. “Hey! What’s your problem?” It jabs its pointer finger into his chest, over his heart, and then lays its hand on the area.

Despite the rough and awkward treatment, Stan gets what it’s trying to say. “Yeah, I know. I feel a lot for him. But you can’t tell me you don’t understand why we can’t go through with it, right?”

The shadow just pats his chest a few more times.

“C’mon. You’re being way too stubborn about this.”

The shadow pulls back and gestures at Stan’s entirety.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re me, and I’m stubborn.”

It crosses its arms across its chest and seems to “stare” at him, as much as something with no eyes can.

“…What? What do you want from me?”, Stan asks. “I’m telling you how this is going to go. We want what we can’t have. It’s as simple as that. I’m not going to do what you want to do, so just forget it and let’s just come back together already!”

The shadow stands there for a few seconds, tapping its foot impatiently. Then it does something  _ really _ strange.

It seems to almost  _ melt _ . Stan takes a step back as the dark mass collapses onto the floor, and then slithers its way under the door behind him.

“Hey! Wait a minute! Get back here!” Stan calls after it, throwing open the door and pursuing the mass as it flows through the hall and down the stairs.

He gets to the ground floor and swings around the corner into the TV room when he sees it. The shadow has reformed back into Stan’s shape, and is looming over a sleeping Ford who’d apparently passed out mere moments after speaking with him on the couch. Poor guy must’ve been exhausted from the day combined with all those late night research binges of his. The TV was on, its light throwing Stan’s shadow in sharp relief.

His shadow was bent over Ford’s prone form, regarding him. It tilts its head to the side, consideringly.

Stan didn’t want to find out what it was considering.

“Hey! Psst! Shadow!” He hisses sharply at it. “Get back here!”

The shadow turns to look toward him, considering him for a few seconds, before it turns back to Ford.

“Don’t ignore me you jerk!” Stan whispers.

He watches as his shadow leans in towards his twin, and reaches up…

…and grasps the blanket lying across the back of the couch.

Stan blinks as he watches his own shadow pull the blanket up around his brother, tucking it in around his shoulders and situating it just so over his torso and legs to cover up as much of his body as possible. Ford shifts a little in his sleep, causing Stan to panic.

“Ok, he’s good! Let’s go!”

His shadow ignores him once more. It simply leans back to admire its work for a few moments before leaning forward to stroke its hand over Ford’s forehead, pushing back his fringe, and placing a light kiss there.

Stan is losing it. “What are you  _ doing _ ?! Stop that right now! He’ll wake up!”

His shadow calmly flips him the bird while it presses its forehead against Ford’s.

Stan is  _ apoplectic _ .

“I said,  _ stop it _ !” He cries, abandoning whispering, and rushes toward his shadow.

Unfortunately, rather predictably, he goes right through his shadow, and ends up sprawled out on the floor of the TV room.

“Stanley?!”

Stan looks up to see Ford sitting up on the couch, his glasses askew, staring at him wide eyed, perplexed. “Stanley, what hap-”

“This isn’t working, Sixer.” Stan blurts, flicking his gaze briefly over to his shadow which is now standing over him. “This whole ‘meditation thing’. Isn’t there something else in your bag of tricks that we can use instead? Some sort of ‘spell’ or sci-fi gadget or something?”

Ford fixes his glasses and looks between Stanley and his shadow warily. “I’m afraid Modoc’s writings are all I have to go on. I’ve never had to deal with something like this before.”

Stan lets out a ragged sigh and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. This was all so stupid. He’d tried to reason with his shadow, tried to talk sense into it, and all he got in return was a middle finger! How were they ever going to reconcile and come back together at this rate?

Suddenly, a hand comes down on his shoulder. Stan looks over to see Ford kneeling by his side in concern.

“Perhaps…perhaps this isn’t the best place for meditation?” Ford tentatively suggests. “The children mean well, but they  _ are _ teenagers enjoying vacation…and Soos and his family have been very accommodating, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting some time to yourself.”

Stan snorts out a laugh. “Literally,” he comments, looking over to his shadow who is regarding him with crossed arms again.

“Oh Stanley,” Ford chuckles. “If you want, we could get a hotel?”

Stan grimaces. “I don’t exactly want to advertise this thing going on, Ford.”

“True,” Ford concedes. “Well…there’s always camping.”

“Camping?”

“Yes. You know, Modoc was essentially camping when he went on his spiritual quest to rejoin his shadow,” Ford points out. “That would definitely offer more privacy. And perhaps the extra quiet would be conducive for meditation.”

Stan mulls over the idea. “Well…the privacy would definitely be nice. And it would be good to make sure there was no one around for my shadow to mess with.”

Ford smiles. “Excellent! I’ll just grab a few supplies and we’ll be off!”

Stan’s mouth falls open in surprise. “‘We’? Sixer, I just said I didn’t want anyone there for the shadow to mess with!”  _ That mostly means  _ you! He thinks vehemently.

“Yes, I understand that Stanley. But you can’t possibly be thinking of going off entirely on your own? In the Gravity Falls woods?” Ford raises his eyebrows. “If you don’t know your way around, it can be surprisingly treacherous.”

“But-”

“Let me at least take you to Modoc’s cave.” Ford implores. “Once I know you’ve made it there safely, I’ll feel much better about you staying out there on your lonesome.”

“But Sixer, I won’t be lonely! I’ll have  _ this _ jackass keeping me company,” Stan gestures towards his shadow, which flips him off for a second time. Ford laughs uproariously, slapping his knee. Stan can’t help but send a lopsided grin his way. Ford’s beautiful when he laughs.

“Oh Stanley, you’re too much,” Ford tells him, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, well…” Stan trails off, offering a lazy grin and a shrug in return.

Ford releases a contented sigh and drops a hand on Stan’s knee, giving it a companionable shake. “It’ll be good, Stanley, you’ll see. We’ll have a good day tomorrow.”

* * *

“You know, this place may be totally insane, but it has its moments when it can actually be…pretty nice,” Stan admits, as he surveys the land from his place on the hiking trail.

The Gravity Falls forest sprawls before him, verdant trees reaching towards the heavens and golden sunlight dappling the forest floor. Tiny motes of dust drift lazily in the shafts of light and the wind dances in the trees and grass.

There’s also a troop of gnomes stacked on top of one another attempting to steal honey from a beehive and several fairies playing badminton. But it wouldn’t be Gravity Falls if there weren’t weirdos hanging around, and Stan’s trying to focus on the positives.

“See? I told you this would be good!” Ford shouts from further up the path, a wild grin on his face. “Come on! We’re getting close to the cave! Just a little further!”

“’Just a little further’ my ass, Sixer! You’ve been saying that for hours now!” Stan yells at him in return, as he jogs to catch up to his twin.

“Well, if you wouldn’t keep getting sidetracked, I wouldn’t have to keep saying it! Just look at your shadow!” Ford says, gesturing to the dark figure standing on his other side. “He’s kept pace with me this entire trip!”

“That’s because he’s a  _ shadow _ , Sixer! He doesn’t have lungs! So I wanna take a few breaks, so sue me!” Stan grumbles as he trudges alongside his twin.

“Oh Stanley, don’t be like that. I was only teasing,” Ford tells him, nudging him a bit with his elbow. “I’m actually pleased you’re taking your time on this hike. I like seeing you happy.”

Stan can feel his face heat. He knows Ford doesn’t mean it in the way he’s imagining, but it’s nice to think that his brother likes seeing him happy for the same reasons he likes seeing Ford happy. “Thanks, Sixer,” he mutters, embarrassed.

For some reason, this makes Ford smile. He grins widely at Stan, causing his heart to skip a beat in response. “I’m glad we can be more honest with each other, Stanley,” he tells him. “It feels just like old times. Exploring the beach, finding hideaways under docks and amongst the rocks, just…discovering new things. I miss the easiness of those days,” Ford confesses, glancing down.

“Me too,” Stan admits. “But I think we’re getting a little closer to that every day. Living together on a boat with no one around for miles has certainly done a  _ lot _ for getting us more familiar with each other.”

Ford tips his head back and laughs. “True! You certainly learn a lot about a person crammed in a small space with them for weeks on end. Like that you hide cheese doodles around the boat in places you think I won’t find them.”

Stan gasps, affronted. “You were  _ stealing _ from me?”

“Maybe a little,” Ford admits with a self-conscious grin. “Well, sometimes I want comfort food too!” He cries defensively at Stan’s pointed look. “A man can only resist snack food on this planet for so long! It’s just…ubiquitous!”

“That’s one of the best things about Earth and you know it,” Stan countered back with a grin of his own. “But you made me think I was going crazy! I would store snacks and then come back to find them gone! I thought I was just imagining things! Fine thing to do to your own flesh and blood, Ford!”

Suddenly a dark arm comes around Ford and pulls him away and into Stan’s shadow, which is hiking on Ford’s other side. Stan watches with not a little bit of jealousy as Ford guffaws in its hold, the shadow ruffling his fluffy hair.

“Alright, you two. Enough of that. You don’t want to go off the cliff, do you Ford?”

“Aw Stanley don’t worry. I know you wouldn’t let me fall,” Ford tells him, as he claps a hand on his shoulder.

Stan looks away so Ford can’t see how much redder his cheeks are getting. “You’re very trusting for a man that steals my cheese doodles.”

Ford giggles, the sound eliciting a goofy smile from Stan, and they continue their hike, stopping occasionally to point out certain sights and strange creatures that happen along their path. The sun continues its steady decline, bathing the town and surrounding forest in warm, amber light.

“Well, here we are!” Ford finally announces after a time with a satisfied smile, as they come to a large opening in the cliffside around a bend in the hiking trail. “Please,” he says, gesturing for Stan to enter ahead of him. Stan can’t help but swallow his nerves a little as he makes his way inside. This was it. This would help him rejoin his shadow and put an end to this whole nightmare.

The cave appears to slant downward as Stan enters. Stan continues to walk and snags his flashlight from his bag, flicking the button to illuminate the cave. He walks for a while, heading down into the cavern, observing the hints of a person having lived there – markings and drawings on the walls of various creatures and people. When the cave finally opens to a large “room” at the end, he sees several makeshift weapons strewn around. He takes in the drawings on the large wall ahead of him with interest – so these little drawings were responsible for everything that happened to Ford and the kids?

A circle of dark, human-shaped stick figures are all crowded around a large, yellow triangular figure with one eye. They all seemed to be bent over into poses of worship, while the eye of the triangular figure seemed to stare into Stan’s very soul.

Nope. Not doing  _ this _ again.

“I see you found the cave drawings,” he hears Ford say from behind him. There’s a long sigh, and then, “I was such a damned fool. Ignoring the warnings of a man who immolated himself to keep the world safe.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! He set himself on  _ fire _ ?! Jesus, Ford-”

“I didn’t know it at the time!” Ford attempts to defend himself. “But I still should have heeded Modoc’s warnings. He was a wise man with knowledge beyond his years, and I was just a young, desperate man who was too blinded by the promise of success and his own pride to admit I was traveling down a dark path.”

Stan shakes his head and is about to reach out, when Ford turns his head away from him. “Thank you,” he says to the darkness, “but it really was an unforgivable error.”

Stan grits his teeth at the knowledge that his shadow is  _ still _ hovering over Ford. But at least  _ he _ can do something that his damned shadow can’t. “Hey. Ford.” He calls, dragging his brother’s attention away from the darkness. “It was a helluva stupid error, I’ll agree with that. But it’s not unforgivable. Your  _ family _ forgives you, and that’s all that matters. Just, you know, don’t do it again,” he says, relishing his twin’s reluctant laughter. “Otherwise, we’ll have to stage an intervention.”

“Yeah, no,” Ford tells him. “I think I’m done talking to cosmic entities that I’ve been warned about. …Thank you, Stanley.” He tells him with a small smile. “You always know just what to say to make me feel better.”

“Yeah, well, I got the silver tongue and all. Might as well use it for good,” Stan says with a shrug, smiling at Ford’s snort of laughter. Then- “Hold on a second. Weren’t you supposed to leave before the sun went down? What time is it?”

“Hmm?” Ford hums, in a suspicious way.

“Ford.”

“Mhmm?”

“…You were never planning on leaving at all, were you?” Stan sighs, dragging a hand over his face.

Ford takes in a deep breath, as he does every time he starts up on one of his damn lectures. “The Gravity Falls forest can be a dangerous place at night, Stanley-”

“That’s what you said about it during the  _ daytime _ !”

“Yes, well, it’s true for both times.” Ford says simply. “Have you ever run into a wereball?”

“A were- _ what _ ?” Stan asks.

“Nasty little creatures. They’re little balls of hair with fangs that try to snack on you.” Ford explains with an exaggerated shiver. “They’re attracted to blood and are deterred only by the sound of a hair trimmer. I put the sound on loop at the entrance of the cave. You’re welcome.”

“Gee, thanks for the protection, Ford,” Stan says sarcastically. “Heaven forbid I have to deal with little hairballs.”

“That  _ bite _ .”

“Ford, I know you can come up with something better than  _ that _ .”

“I don’t have to. I know you’ll let me stay.” Ford says with a smug smirk.

“Oh really? And how’s that?” Stan asks, with his hands on his hips.

“Because your shadow just took off my backpack and set it down out of the way.”

Stan scoffs. “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s just stealing your stuff.”

“Stanley.” Ford says pointedly. “He’s rolling out my sleeping bag as we speak.”

Stan shines his light over to the area Ford indicated, highlighting his shadow unrolling the last bit of sleeping bag and pulling out a pillow to lay neatly at the head of the sleeping area.

…Damn traitor.

“Come on, Stanley. It’s just me. I promise, nothing that happens in this cave will leave it if you don’t want it to. Now come on, let’s have some dinner. I’m famished!” Ford tells him, sitting down on his sleeping bag next to Stanley’s shadow and rummaging around in his backpack for the intended items.

Stan just sighs and sits down to begin rolling out his own sleeping bag on the other side of the cave, hoping against hope that there’d be nothing happening that would require Ford to keep that promise.

* * *

It’s after they’ve eaten and are sitting around the electric lantern Ford placed in the center of the cave that Stan starts to get antsy. He knows they came here for a reason, but he’d really rather not have to do this.

“This” being meditating with his shadow self.

“Well…” Ford starts, with an awkward cough. “…Shall we try the meditation, then?”

Stan snorts. “Must we?”

“I mean…you want to reabsorb your shadow, don’t you?” Ford asks with a small frown.

Stan sighs loudly. “ _ Yes _ , Ford, I do. But…” He trails off, unable to say what is on his mind.

“…Would a fire help set the mood?” Ford asks. “There’s evidence that Modoc would set fires here, and there’s a hole in the roof that would allow the smoke out. I could always set one.”

Stan blinks a few times in surprise at the unexpected offer. “…No, that’s ok. It’s not the mood that’s the problem,” he admits. Seeing Ford’s concerned face, he continues. “I just don’t want to think anymore about the subject that caused the split in the first place. That’s all.”

Slowly, Ford nods. “I suppose that makes sense. Whatever it is that’s bothering you must be rather intense and personal.”

Stan laughs. “You can say that again.”

“… _ Would _ it help if I left?”

Stan whips his head around to regard his twin. “What? No!” He denies embarrassingly quickly. Ford is staring at him now with wide eyes. He sighs and looks down at his sleeping bag, picking invisible lint off it. “I don’t really want you to go,” he admits. “I just…I just don’t know how to do this, you know? The last time I tried, it didn’t go well.”

“…What if I meditate with you?” Ford asks. At Stan’s quizzical look, he continues. “I can put on some music and we can just sit still together. Would that help?”

Stan thinks about it. It…could work, he supposes. If the cave was just completely silent while Stan…talks to himself?

_ Hey. Can you hear me? _ He thinks purposefully.

**_Oh. So, he finally figures it out-_ **

“Gah!”

“Stanley!” Ford’s suddenly across the space, looking into Stan’s eyes with more than a little concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I think…I think I heard it. My shadow.” Stan says, looking over towards the creature that had been sitting next to Ford. It turns to look at him and sends him a thumbs up in response. “I didn’t know it could talk. Or, well, think-talk? However this whole crazy thing works.” He runs a hand through his hair in distress.

“Um…I mean, that’s a  _ good _ thing, right?” Ford asks hesitantly. “That you can talk with your shadow, I mean. Were you unable to communicate last time?”

Last time? Stan wasn’t really looking for a two-way communication last time. He just wanted to lay down the law. And look how well  _ that _ went.

He glares over at his shadow as the memory of it flipping him off rises to the forefront of his mind, and he  _ swears _ the jerk is laughing at him! He watches as the shadow’s shoulders jump up and down with narrowed eyes.

“…I’ll take that as a ‘sort of’,” Ford says, looking over his shoulder at the shaking shadow behind him. “So, you couldn’t hear it before, but now you can? I wonder why that is.”

“Probably because he’s a gigantic  _ jerk _ ,” Stan tells him, sticking his tongue out at his shadow.

“Stanley!” Ford laughs. “You have to stop saying that!”

“Why? Because it’s not ‘polite’?” Stan sneers.

“I was going to say, ‘because you’re essentially calling  _ yourself _ a jerk every time you say it’, but it also doesn’t help that it’s impolite,” Ford says with laughter in his voice.

“Hmph,” Stan retorts, crossing his arms and looking away to hide what he’s sure are reddening cheeks from his twin.

He can see Ford smile out of the corner of his eye, though, so he’s not sure it worked.

“Maybe that’s one of the things you can ask him.” Ford gets up and goes over to his own bed and begins going through his phone. “We’re going to meditate now,” he tells Stan’s shadow. “You should go over to Stanley so you can figure out how to sort all of this out.”

Stan’s shadow simply lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug and gets into a kneeling position. But before it stands up, it reaches out for Ford.

“Oh!” Ford exclaims as a shadowed hand cups his cheek. “I-um…” Surprisingly, Ford’s gaze flicks to Stan’s for a moment before they get dragged away as the shadow leans its forehead against Ford’s.

“Oh…” Stan hears Ford whisper softly. It sounded intimate, matching the gesture, and Stan feels his hands fist the material beneath him as he watches the display. Ford whispers something else, something Stan can’t hear, and just before Stan’s about to launch himself from his place on his sleeping bag his shadow stands and heads over to come sit next to him.

“I…um….” Ford trails off awkwardly, looking between Stan and his shadow, before he seems to come back to himself. “I’ll just set up the meditation app, shall I?”

“Yeah, knock yourself out,” Stan says, as he watches his twin fumble with the device. In his mind, he thinks,  _ Way to make a spectacle of yourself. _

**_You’re just jealous you weren’t in my place._ **

Stan clenches his jaw and watches as Ford grins in triumph, his crow’s feet becoming more prominent in his handsome features. “Got it!” He cries. “Now Stanley, how would you like to sit-?”

“I’ll lay down,” Stan tells him firmly. “Don’t worry,” he says to Ford’s concerned look, “there’s no chance of me falling asleep. Not with  _ this _ guy chattering away in my ear.” He hooks a thumb at his shadow next to him.

Ford smiles, a tad uncertain, but a smile all the same. “Ok Stanley. I’ll sit over here for this. Now, get comfortable and I’ll turn it on.”

Stan sighs and lays down on his sleeping bag, watching from the corner of his eye how his shadow mirrors his movements. “Alright,” he calls when he’s as comfortable as he’s going to get. “Let’s do this.”

“The app will start in five, four, three, two, one...” Ford counts down and the sound of drums and rattles fills the air inside the cave.

Stan couldn’t care less.

_ Alright, buster. Let’s hash this out right here and now. _ Stan thinks.

**_Oh let’s._ ** His shadow self replies.

_ Ford is our twin brother. We love him, and we’re  _ in love _ with him. It’s all really simple. One of these things is ok, the other is not. What are we not understanding here? _

**_I don’t know._ ** The shadow replies.  **_Perhaps the bit where it’s all really simple? Because it’s not, you know._ **

_ How so? _

**_Well, if it was,_ ** **I** **_wouldn’t be here, now would I?_ **

_ Look,  _ Stan argues,  _ it’s all harmless daydreaming and careless thoughts. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. _

**_Because you_ ** **make** **_it a big deal!_ ** The shadow argues back.  **_Like I_ ** **just** **_said, if you didn’t feel so strongly then I wouldn’t be here!_ **

_ It’s all I  _ have _ ok?  _ Stan admitted.  _ Just let me have this  _ one  _ thing without it being complicated by Gravity Falls weirdness! _

**_I’m sorry,_ ** the shadow says, and Stan feels a strong sense of remorse follow its words.  **_I truly am. But it is what it is. I can’t change the results of our actions any more than you can._ **

_ …You could just forget it all and join back with me.  _ Stan points out.

**_I’m in love with him,_ ** his shadow says, firm.  **_He’s wonderful: loving, exciting, handsome, fascinating, and inspiring, and I don’t want anyone else._ **

_ …Yeah,  _ Stan reluctantly agrees.  _ I don’t want anyone else, either. But- _

**_No. I’m in love with him, and I_ ** **love** **_being in love with him. I’m not giving that up for anyone or anything. Including myself._ **

_ …Selfish bastard,  _ Stan tells him, feeling the heat and pressure of tears pressing up against his eyelids.  _ Stupid, selfish jerk…Why do you have to make things so  _ hard  _ on yourself?! _

**_It would appear to be our M.O._** Stan’s shadow says, and Stan can feel the ruefulness to its words. **_I_** **want** ** _to join back with you. I really do. But you know what it’s going to take._**

_ …You want to confess. _

**_I want to take that chance!_ ** The shadow tells him earnestly.  **_I want to take that leap of faith! He seems receptive, and think of what we could have if we were just_ ** **brave** **_enough?_ **

_ You’re crazy.  _ If he could, Stan would snort derisively.  _ Since when does Ford seem receptive? _

**_You know exactly what I mean. The little looks when he thinks you’re not looking? The impromptu gifts? Those_ ** **smiles** **_he seems to reserve for us, only. …What he said to me before I came over to you._ **

_ What was it? _

**_‘I’m going to miss you, too.’ I know you’ve been angry about all the touching and intimacy between Ford and me, but if you’ll notice, he’s not exactly pulling away._ **

Stan considers this. And realizes…it’s true. Ford actually seemed to be reciprocating the touches most of the time, and even touched Stan himself more as a result.

**_We have a chance._ **

_ …You’re an idiot. _

**_Think of it! We could have it_ ** **all!**

We’re _ idiots. _

**_Just one jump. One leap of faith. Let go of the safety net, it’s only holding us back._ **

_ You sound like a stupid kid who’s got his head stuck in a tacky romance novel. _

**_They say love makes fools of us all. We were fools once, and we got a miracle! We got him back! Let’s be foolish again, one last time._ **

Stan opens his eyes, and rubs at them, clearing his vision of murky tears.

_ …What if he doesn’t forgive us? _

**_He will._ **

_ What if he hates us? _

**_He won’t._ **

_ …You’ll be with me? _

**_Always._ **

Stan takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then another. Then he turns his head and looks for Ford.

His twin is sitting against the rock wall across the cave area, looking serene. His eyes are closed, and his face has lost the pinched look it gets when he’s thinking. The artificial light of the lantern highlights his lightening hair and the sharp angle of his square jaw.

He looks beautiful.

Stan’s on his hands and knees before he knows it, crawling over to his brother almost without his awareness. As he passes the lantern, his shadow gets thrown up against the rock wall opposite, and things are normal: his shadow moves with him, intent in every movement, as he makes his way over to Ford.

Something must tip off Ford, perhaps Stan makes a noise, or his shadow blots out the light, but for whatever reason he opens his lovely brown eyes just as Stan reaches him.

He looks startled. “Stanley-?”

“Shh,” Stan shushes him, and he’s moderately surprised when Ford complies. “You…you said you wanted to know how you could help?”

Ford nods mutely, looking deeply into Stan’s eyes, as if he could find the answers he sought in them.

“Then if you could just…just listen to what I have to say? And don’t talk. Just-just let me get it out of my system.”

Ford nods again.

Stan lets out a relieved sigh. Then takes in a deep breath. “Ford,” he says, as he takes his shoulders in his hands. “I’m in love with you.”

His twin’s mouth drops open and his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. But Ford doesn’t speak. He’s keeping his word. For now.

“I can’t say when it started, it just seemed to creep up on me until one day it struck me. And believe you me, it wasn’t exactly a welcome realization,” Stan chuckles ruefully. “I wouldn’t change it though, not for anything in the world. You mean a helluva lot to me, it‘s why my friggin’  _ shadow _ got ripped away from me! But I don’t wanna lose you either. I know what this means, and I know it can’t happen-”

“Stanley-”

“-and I know you could never feel the same-”

“Stanley-”

“-but I appreciate you hearing me out and-”

“ _ Stanley! _ ”

Suddenly two large hands come up to frame Stanley’s face, cutting off the rest of his words. “What? Ford?”

“Stanley,” Ford says, misty-eyed and voice breaking. “Stanley, I love you too!”

Stan is stunned. He knows his jaw dropped, but he can’t bring himself to close his mouth. Because Ford just…he just said…

What he just said was  _ impossible _ .

“I-you-what?” He stumbles.

Ford laughs, a watery sound, with tears streaming down his cheeks. “I said, ‘I love you, too’, you knucklehead!”

Stan just stares in shock. He doesn’t know how to react. He’d dreamed of such a thing occurring, he’d dared to fantasize about it, but for it to actually  _ happen _ ?

Ford removes one hand and uses the back of it to wipe away tears, and that snaps Stan out of his daze. He reaches out and gently removes Ford’s glasses from his face and uses his thumbs to wipe the tears away dumbly.

Ford laughs another one of those watery laughs at him again. “Are you still with me, Stanley? Did I break you?”

“…I think you did, yeah,” Stan admits, breathlessly. Ford laughs again and Stan’s heart lifts joyfully at the sound.

He takes Ford’s face in his hands and looks deeply into his eyes. He sees warmth and laughter and  _ love _ shining there, like the most beautiful treasure. “You really…?  _ Me _ ?”

Ford giggles and tilts his head to nuzzle into Stan’s left palm. “I really.  _ You _ .” He admits easily, eyes sparkling with mirth. “It’s always been you, Stanley,” he confesses softly.

“It’s always been you, Sixer,” Stan confesses in return, heart blooming as a crooked smile spreads across Ford’s face. He brings his forehead to gently touch Ford’s, deeply inhaling their shared breath. “Moses. I can’t believe I ever got so  _ lucky _ .”

“Me neither,” Ford says.

Stan opens his eyes to see Ford’s already observing him. He sees when Ford’s focus changes and shifts to his lips. He feels the energy change, how it goes from comfortably warm to strangely charged.

“Stanley…” Ford murmurs softly, flicking his gaze up to lock with Stan’s questioning. Asking for permission.

“Ford,” Stanley whispers, tilting his head and leaning in-

“GRUNKLE STAN! GREAT UNCLE FORD! ARE YOU TWO IN THERE?”

Stan leaps back like he was electrocuted.

“Dipper?!”

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mabel calls excitedly. “We finally found you! Do you have  _ any _ idea how many caves there are in this cliffside?”

Ford turns away and starts scrubbing any remaining tears away while Stanley whirls to the cave entrance just in time to catch a great-niece to the gut. “Oof! Sweetie, why did you come all the way out here? And at night?”

“We were worried about you two!”

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan. You know you and Great Uncle Ford tend to attract trouble.” Dipper says, entering the small space.

“Speak for yourself, kiddo,” Stan grumbles, causing Mabel and Dipper to laugh.

“Are you ok, Grunkle Ford? Your eyes look a little red,” Mabel points out.

“I’m fine, Mabel. Just a little tired,” Ford tells her.

“Ohh! I see. I guess it  _ might _ be pretty late for you older folk,” Mabel concedes and Ford’s brows fly up in surprise, causing Stan to laugh.

“Alright, alright. Now that we’ve all found each other, why don’t we-”

He’s interrupted by Dipper’s loud gasp. “Grunkle Stan!” He cries. “Your shadow! It’s back to normal!”

Stan looks behind himself and sure enough, there’s a dark silhouette striking the same pose behind him, the dark form rising from the back of his shoes to loom over the space against the rock wall. He shifts positions and the form shifts with him, just as intended.

“Yeah! Check it out!” He grins, approaching the wall and making various shadow puppets. “I’m cured!” He tells them, his hand doing an imitation of a bouncing rabbit.

“Grunkle Stan, that’s  _ amazing _ !” Mabel crows. “How did you fix it?”

Stan stiffens immediately, his eyes flying to Ford against his own volition. “Uh…”

“Was it with the meditation that Great Uncle Ford suggested?” Dipper asks.

“Yes! That’s it, exactly! Sitting here in the dark was just the thing I needed, turns out!” Stan says. It isn’t even a lie.

“I’m  _ so _ happy for you, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel tells him, giving him a hug. Stan hugs her back, and opens an arm for Dipper, who’s hovering nearby. Dipper falls into his embrace easily and Stan laughs as he hugs them both.

“Thanks kids. But it’s been a long day and I think it’s time for all of us to get some sleep, us ‘older folk’ and you young kiddos included.”

Dipper and Mabel argue playfully, but they’re quick to set down their backpacks and take out their own sleeping bags.

While the kids are setting up their sleeping bags in the middle of the room between Stan and Ford’s, Stan comes up behind Ford and lightly touches his elbow, getting his attention. He subtly tilts his head towards the entrance before telling the kids, “We’ll be right back, kids. Ford and I are just gonna do a quick perimeter check before bed.”

The younger pair of twins shout their assent and Stan heads outside into the fresh, Gravity Falls air. And waits.

“Stan-LEY?!” Ford yelps, as Stan manhandles him until his back is against the cliffside. Then he finally takes what he’s been aching for since he was a youth and only just learned was his.

Stan seals his lips over Ford’s, tilting his head to get the angle just right. Ford surges against his hold, arms coming up to grasp Stan around his shoulders to pull him in closer. Electricity sparks up Stan’s spine and he’s sure he moans into Ford’s mouth. He hears Ford moan in response and presses up against him, until there’s no space between them.

He savors the feel of Ford’s lips against his own, and eagerly licks at Ford’s lower lip, seeking permission. Permission which Ford grants as he opens his mouth, allowing Stanley entrance.

Stan licks around Ford’s cheeks, and slides his tongue alongside Ford’s, relishing the taste of him.

And then he backs away.

He has to steady Ford with a grin as he attempts to follow and almost stumbles. “Easy there, tiger,” Stan teases. “Not while the cubs are present.” He brings a finger to his lips before pointing it towards the cave entrance.

Ford huffs. “You’re a tease, Stanley.”

“But you love me anyway,” Stan mutters, touching his forehead to Ford’s once more.

“Of course,” Ford breathes. “Always.”

Stan takes his hand and laces their fingers together, giving Ford’s hand a tender squeeze before letting go.

“Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford? Tell Mabel she can’t hog the cave!”

“Tell Dipper I’m not hogging the cave! A lady simply needs her space!”

Stan chuckles and takes a step back. “Shall we?” He asks, tilting his head towards the entrance.

Ford laughs. “So we shall,” he says.

Stan makes to head inside when Ford tugs him back by the shoulder and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Stanley. Sweet dreams, my love.”

Stan watches his retreating back as Ford heads back into the cave with his hand pressed over the spot Ford kissed.

He might have to re-evaluate his stance on Gravity Falls weirdness if love is where it leads.


End file.
